


The Bullet of Life

by jkkitty



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkitty/pseuds/jkkitty
Summary: 2016 Spook-Me ChallengePrompt Grim Reaper and photoA visitor from the past plays a game to determine one of the agents’ life or death.Sparky, once again, did her magic and did a wonderful beta job for me, and I thank her so much.





	

     

                                                                                                              

Napo eon and Illya exited the plane at Zhulyany Airport in Kiev, Ukraine.  The weather that greeted them was a freezing snow storm that was becoming thicker by the moment.  The American pulled his coat tightly against the cold while the Russian took a deep breath and smiled.  

“Not your kind of weather?”  He asked Napoleon with a wide smile knowing that the American preferred warm weather.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if it were a true assignment against Thrush, but this anyone could handle.  I’m not sure it’s worth freezing over.”   The American complained as he blew on his hands.

“You always could tell Mr. Waverly that you rather not do him the favor of delivering a package to his old friend.” 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, just said I’m not sure it’s worth freezing over,” Napoleon said.   Looking around the area and had to admit to himself that the white covering was beautiful.  “So happy to be home?”

Walking to the waiting car, Illya sighed.   “It has not been home for many years, my friend.  There is no one waiting here for me.”

Napoleon was silent as they climbed into the car.   He knew that Illya often missed his homeland. “Perhaps after we deliver the package you could show me around Kiev?”

“So much has changed,” the sadness in Illya’s voice cleared.

Refusing to allow Illya to fall into depression, “Then we’ll relearn the city together.”

Smiling at the positivism of his partner, “Okay, my friend.  Together then.”

……

The snow had stopped, and the temperature rose a little making walking a little easier.  Although they saw many buildings damaged by the war under repair still, Illya never stopped smiling as they traveled the city. They started at St Sophia's Cathedral, the oldest remaining church in Kiev turned into a museum in 1934. Illya told Napoleon about his mother and babushka taking him to Mass there before it was closed.

They visited the Motherland Statue and Museum to the Great Patriotic War with its hundreds of original photographs symbolizing the great losses suffered. Looking carefully, Illya was surprised to find a picture of his mother and father in a group of other patriots.  Unknown to the Russian, when Napoleon excused himself to use the restroom the American found the exhibit director making arrangements for it to be copied.  Once home he would have Illya’s parents, enlarged and refinished as a surprise for him.

As night started to fall, they were at St Andrew's Church before walking down Andrew's Descent which winds to Kontraktova Ploshcha where the street was lined with souvenir sellers, restaurants, galleries, and museums. Eating and listening to the street musicians, they relaxed before heading toward their hotel. After a while, tiredness began to overtake them as it started to get colder.  Walking along the pathway to their hotel, the sound of a bullet whipping past Napoleon’s ear.  Pulling his gun, he shoved Illya to the ground and into an alleyway. 

“What are you doing?” Illya demanded sitting up and pulled his gun.  Obviously, Napoleon felt they were in danger.

“Someone just tried to shoot us,” Napoleon hissed.

Looking up careful, Illya saw a man he thought was dead at the entrance to the alley. “Yaroslaw Dzubenko,” He muttered.

“Who?”  Napoleon asked.

“It is a ghost,” Illya said.

“Ghosts don’t shoot at people,” Napoleon said in a frustrated voice brushing himself off.

“He is a man from my unit when I was in the Navy.   A ship with a complete consignment of men was destroyed by him and his bunch of criminals.   Dzubenko was convicted and disappeared while being transferred to prison.   I was one of the guards and one of the only men still alive that can identify him.”  Illya explained.

“Well, obviously, he wanted to take care of you.   Let’s get moving, partner.”  Napoleon began to stand when a group of armed men surrounded him. 

“Illya Kuryakin, how nice to see you again.   Now if you and your friend would be so kind as to drop your guns, I know you would not like to see a blood bath on the street here.” Yaroslaw stood pressing his gun pressed into Napoleon’s head.

The UNCLE agents dropped their guns and finished standing.  Quickly they were pushed into a car that appeared at the end of the alley after their hands were bound.

The silence in the car was deafening as the group drove into the country.  After the car had stopped, the two agents were ordered out and directed into a corn field.

Once the group was deep into a corn field, Napoleon and Illya burst into action.   Taking out their guards and grabbed their gun before they took off further into the field.   They could hear the rustling of the stocks falling in the distance as they moved further away.   Taking a few precious moments, they undid their bounds and headed toward the farm house they could see through the thinning stocks. 

………..

Hearing nothing behind them, they cleared the field.  A shot was loud in the quiet of the night.   Illya felt himself falling, and Napoleon yelling his name.  Blackness took over as the snow cushioned his fall causing him never to hear the shots from his partner’s gun that took out the two men closing in on them.

Opening his blurry eyes, Illya found himself looking into the window of his babushka’s dacha.  She sat at a table, cat on her shoulder.  Before her was a chess board with unusual pieces on it.  As his eyes began to clear, he saw the grim reaper standing across from her ready to move a bullet shaped chess piece with the face king closer to the end of the board.  His babushka moved one of her pieces to block the move.

Illya stood there watching the two play the strange game of chess.  The pieces were different, and he couldn’t understand how they were able to keep track of who was winning.  

No longer able to watch as he feared for her safety, he yelled a warning of concern to her causing the grim reaper to raise its eyes glaring at Illya with a grin as he took another of her pieces from the board. Illya quickly entered the building, running up to her.  Holding her tight, he tried to get her to come with him.

 _Не волнуйтесь, мой любимый внук Илью. Я не испугала его. Теперь сидеть спокойно, пока мы продолжаем, в эту игру._ (Do not worry, my beloved grandson.  I am not frightened of him.  Now sit quietly while we continue this game.)  She told him as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

 _Но бабушка, он здесь, чтобы взять Вас. Я только что нашел вас, и я не могу снова потерять тебя._ (But grandmother he is here to take you.  I just found you, and I can't lose you again.)  Tear filled his eyes but did as she asked.

Sitting down, he watched his babushka play the reaper again.   For every move, he made had her blocking it.  The pain would cause him to draw in sharp breaths at times as the bullet king tried to win the game.  Worried he raised his hand to his chest where the bullet had entered.   The moisture at the site had him glancing at his hand his eyes from the game. 

Although the bullet hole was surrounded with blood, it was not bleeding at the moment.  As Illya looked back at the game, he saw the reaper remove another piece from the board as the feeling of blood began to flow again. 

As she removed the syringe from the board, the blood stopped once again. 

Illya moved to the table and knelt by his babushka.  “ _Бабушка, что происходит? Я не понимаю.”_ (Grandmother what is happening?  I do not understand.) 

Running her hand through his hair, she attempted to quiet his worried heart. _Тсс ребенок. Я не испугало его, и ни вы не должны быть. Я не позволю никакого вреда прийти к вам_ (Shh child.  I am not frightened of him, and neither should you be.  I will not allow any harm to come to you.)

The game continued with the bleeding starting and stopping depending on the players’ moves.  With each piece his babushka lost the blood began.  With each piece the reaper lost or was blocked it stopped.  

Illya laid his head on the old woman’s lap.  He felt weakness seeping into his bones and eyes.  They began to close as his body lost its heat.  As the reaper’s king threatened his babushka king, he slid to the floor unconscious.

..………..

The light in Illya’s hospital room was dim, but Napoleon could see the Russian fighting something in his sleep. Napoleon shook his partner, trying to get the man to wake from the nightmare but nothing was helping to bring Illya back to consciousness.   

A slight movement caught in his side vision.   Turning quickly, the shade of the grim reaper greeted him.   As the shadow became more solid, Illya’s heart monitor began to ring out as his heartbeat became irregular and slowed down.  

The door to the room burst open and medical personnel ran into the room and began to work on the Russian.   Napoleon watched as the shadow of the grim reaper alternated between solid and a whisper of being there. As Illya heart rate returned to normal, the reaper’s shadow dimmed out of view. 

After everyone had left the room except Napoleon, he watched as the shadow that kept winking in and out.   “You won’t get him. I won’t let you.” Napoleon muttered as he held Illya’s hand tightly.

The grim reaper seemed surprised when without warning a wave of air blew through the room, and a second shadow appeared.

Within a moment the disturbance disappeared, and both the reaper and an old lady with a determined look on her face were clearly visible.  She grinned at the reaper holding a black bullet shaped piece in her hand. The woman walked to the bed and ran her hand over Illya’s hair. “ _Вы безопасны маленький.”_ Then looked up at Napoleon, _“Позаботьтесь о нем для меня.”_ (You are safe little one.  Take care of him for me.)

“I promise, I will,” Napoleon said as the two spirits disappeared surprised he understood what she had said to him.

A few minutes later Illya woke, and whispered, “Babushka.”

“Illya.  Hey partner, open those eyes.”  Napoleon said. 

As the Russian’s eyes open, he smiled.  “She won.   I knew she would outsmart him.”

“What do you mean?”  The confusion in Napoleon’s voice was clear.  What did the old lady have to do with his partner?

 “My babushka stopped him from taking me.”

“What are you saying?   Are you still caught in that dream?”

 “No, my friend.  I am so tired and am going back to sleep.” Illya mumbled as he fell back into an easy slumber with all his monitors showing a normal sleep.

Napoleon stared at his partner.  He might never understand what happened, but at this point, he was just happy to have his partner back.

 


End file.
